Secrets of Mysterion
by ShadowDan
Summary: What is the source of Kenny's powers? Will he ever find out? Rated M for violence and language.
1. Prologue

How did it come to be this way? Why do I have this power? What am I supposed to do with it? What does it all mean?

"Hey! Mysterion!" Stan was calling me, "Come on, we have to go let Cartman out. His mom is asking where he is and you have the key."

"I wish we could keep him in there," I sighed. If there's one person I hated more than anyone right now, it was fucking Cartman.

After sending us to a dark oblivion with the help of Cthulhu, Cartman never deserved to be let out of that cell with that bucket of Butters' shit.

"Alright, I'm coming."

Walking into the main part of the basement, I heard Cartman whining about how the game wasn't fun anymore. You see we left him in that cell wearing the same Coon outfit for the past two days.

We were royally pissed off about Cartman sending us to our possible deaths (well, their possible deaths, anyway) and were trying to punish him.

I don't even think his mom cared for the first day. He had been getting into trouble lately and I'm sure his mom was glad for the break.

But now she was looking for him and I didn't want her to get mad. Unlike her son, Mrs. Cartman isn't a complete asshole.

We had let Butters out after six days because his parents had come looking for him. Though he wasn't much of a villain, he still was one; but I know his parents will do way worse to him than we ever could.

"Let me out of here you guys," Cartman was yelling, "This isn't fucking funny!"

"Shut up, fat ass, I'm coming."

"Not cool, Kenny," he said as he was let out, "I'm telling my mom on you guys."

"Go ahead," I taunted, "Do you really think she'll believe we put you in a jail cell in your basement after sending us to a dark oblivion by teaming up with an ancient god of darkness?"

"Fucking poor son of a bitch…" he mumbled as he realized the truth in my statement.

"I can't believe him!" Kyle said as he watched Cartman go, "That fat ass attacks us with Cthulhu and then acts like we're the assholes!"

"Dude, it's Cartman," Stan replied, "Did you really think he would realize he was wrong?"

Kyle was still dressed as the Human Kite, Stan was still Toolshed, and I was still in my Mysterion outfit.

It was just us three now. Token, Clyde, and Timmy had gone home. Butters had been grounded and Cartman was upstairs. And of course, Bradley had returned to his home planet to discover his powers and find his parents.

Why can't _I_ find the reasons for _my_ powers?

Gah! I can't even think about that without wanting to blow my brains out. But at the cost of going through reincarnation again, I decided against it.

"Whatever," Kyle resigned, "Let's just go home."


	2. Familiar Faces

-7 years later-

"Hey Kenny," Stan greeted me.

I tried hard not to laugh at what he was wearing. For the past week, Wendy had been making him dress in what she called a "couple's outfit". In other words, he had to wear something that looked like what Wendy was wearing.

Today's wardrobe was a pink T-shirt with light blue jeans. Anyone who didn't know the reason behind his clothes would probably assume he was gay.

"Hey, Stan," I returned, "What's up with the—"

"Fucking Wendy," he said exasperated. "Where the hell did she get the idea we need to dress the same? I swear she does these things just to piss me off."

"Maybe if you weren't so whipped, you wouldn't have to do dumb stuff like that."

Well, I know who said that.

"Shut up, Cartman," Stan said, agitated. "At least I didn't get sent to exercise camp over the summer like you, fat ass!"

Yeah, that's right. Cartman was officially on a diet. But hey, when your blood pressure is that of an old man using Viagra at age 16, you'd be put on a diet too.

"Hey!" Cartman yelled, "My doctor says I'm at a healthy level now!"

"Healthy for a dairy cow," I couldn't help but join in.

"Screw you guys, I'm going home."

"Asshole," Stan muttered.

* * *

><p>"Stan! Kenny!" a voice called out.<p>

We were sitting in the South Park city park doing our homework from the first week of school when a familiar voice called out to us.

"Kyle!" Stan exclaimed, "What are you doing here?"

"We're moving back to South Park!"

Kyle and the rest of the Broflovskis had moved back to New Jersey in the fifth grade so that they could be with their elderly grandparents.

Kyle looked different from when I last saw him. He had his red hair cropped short and he was tanner. His clothes were Jersey style, but that made sense seeing as Kyle was a WereJersey. Clever name, right? I came up with that one myself.

"Why did you leave New Jersey?" I asked.

"My grandpa died of a heart attack and my grandma died not too long afterwards."

"Dude, I'm sorry," Stan said.

"Yeah, but they're in a better place now and, hey, I get to come back here," he said thoughtfully.

"Well we're glad your back," I told him.

"Jeez you guys look different. Kenny, you actually don't have a hoodie over your face and Stan, well, uh…"

"Wendy."

"Oh, I see."

"Well if it isn't the Jew!"

Damn it, Cartman!

"I'd ask what brings you back, but that would make it seem like I care."

"Well I definitely didn't come back here to see you, fat ass!"

"Ginger!"

"Dumb shit!"

"Jersey!"

"Asshole!"

"Hey! Shut up already!"

"Ike?" Stan said, surprised.

The Canadian walked up to us with his hands over his ears.

"Yeah and I can hear those two bitching at each other from across the park."

"Shut up, Ike!" Kyle said, "This fat ass started it."

"Yeah, well suck my balls, Kyle."

"Wow, it's been seven years and you've still got the same insults? Pathetic."

"Shut up, Jew!"

"Hey! Both of you shut up!" Ike screamed.

"Come one, you two," Stan said, pulling Kyle away while I grabbed Cartman's shirt and dragged him away, "Let's cool down a bit."

"Fuck you, Kenny," Cartman complained.


	3. Catching Chaos

-That Night-

The sound of my boots hitting concrete echoed through the alleyway. Running as fast as I could, I tried to tail the shadow ahead of me.

"This is fucking crazy," I huffed between breaths. Talking took too much energy, energy I was sure I'd need for the fight ahead. _You'd think the cops would have been able to catch this nutcase by now. But no, leave it for the "superhero",_ I continued my rant mentally.

As I rounded the corner, I saw my target stop ahead. Obviously he was out of breath. Good thing I had joined cross country years ago. Even with these heavy combat boots on, I could still outrun almost anyone I came across. I'm not sure if my awesome stamina is another power, but damn it's convenient.

"Dang it, Mysterion," the lunatic huffed, "How am I supposed ta get away with you chasing me like that?"

"That's the whole point," I breathed back.

"Aw, you hero fellers are no fun," he quipped and started running again.

"Come on, just give up already!"

"Professor Chaos never gives up!" he cried as he went to round another corner, "Evil will tri-UMPH!"

Butters fell back onto the pavement with a thud.

"What the hell?" we both said.

As I caught up, I saw none other than my least favorite "crime-fighting" Coon standing around the corner with his fist out.

"Well, Mysterion," Cartman said with a stupid grin, "Looks like I had to save your ass again. You're not much of a hero, are you?"

"Shut up, Coon," I said in my false gravelly voice, "Your fat ass could never have caught him if I hadn't been chasing him and distracting him."

"Sure, sure, whatever you say. But I stopped him, so I get to take the credit!"

"Take all the fucking credit you want," I replied, annoyed, "I'm just trying to do my job."

"Aren't you a little old to be playing hero?"

"Says the kid in a raccoon suit."

"I only put this on because I saw you sneaking down the street," he said. "I couldn't let you have all the fun."

Okay, fat ass was starting to piss me off and…wait…

"Where'd Butters go?"

"How the hell should I know, 'Mysterion'?"

"You let him get away!"

"Big whoop, it's just Butters."

"Hey, retard, don't you remember what he did?"

"So he went crazy, killed his parents, and set the house on fire, what's the big deal?"

"He's a fucking lunatic!"

"So are you, running around in a mask and cape!"

"I don't have time for this!" I yelled, taking off after the only way Butters could have gone without being noticed.

"Hey! Don't leave me here! Kenny! Kenny?"


	4. Painful Truth

-The Next Morning-

"Hey, Kenny, are you okay?"

It was Stan. Today, he was wearing an "I'm With Stupid" shirt pointing to the right. Wendy was under his right arm with a matching shirt pointing left.

"Yeah," I replied, "Just thinking about something."

I wasn't really okay; I was still pissed off about not catching Butters. He had been on the run for over a year now so I was kind of depressed. But seeing Stan and Wendy was funny enough that I could pretend to be happy.

"Aw, he's just mad because he didn't catch Butters while they were playing heroes last night."

_God damn it, Cartman!_ I screamed in my head. If he said one more smart-ass remark, I was going to knock his teeth out.

"Heroes?" Stan questioned, "Wait, you're not still dressing up as Mysterion, are you?"

"I was trying to catch that homicidal maniac before he hurt someone!" I defended myself.

"Dude, we all know Butters is crazy. But you should leave him to the police. After all what if he kills you?"

"He can't," I muttered angrily.

"You sound pretty sure of yourself, Ken," Wendy chimed in, "But if a kid can shoot his own parents in their sleep, what makes you think he can't kill you, too."

"You wouldn't understand," I replied as I got up to walk away.

"No, he's right," Cartman just had to add, "I know I can't understand why a 16-year-old guy is running around pretending to be a superhero."

That's it!

"Jesus, Kenny!"

I spun around and lunged at Cartman, punching his face as hard as I could. Every time my fist connected with his face, I heard a satisfying crack. Once I could see blood covering his face, I stood up, kicked him in the crotch and walked away, leaving Cartman screaming on the sidewalk.

Stan ran up to me while Wendy helped Eric to his feet.

"What the hell was that?"

"You can't understand!" I yelled at my friend, "No one can! You can't help me! But I can try to help other people. And last night, that asshole stopped me from catching that crazy killer just so he could make fun of me!"

"Whoa, Kenny, what the hell is this?"

I knew he wouldn't understand. He couldn't. But something deep inside me needed someone to understand. The weight of my power being a secret was too heavy. It was crushing me alive.

"Stan," I finally caved, "If I tell you what my problem is, will you take me seriously?"

"Of course, dude."

"No matter how weird it may sound? No matter how impossible? Even if I can't prove it, will you believe me?"

"Yes, Kenny."

"Okay. Stan: I can't die."

"What?"

"See! I knew you wouldn't believe me!"

"Wait, Kenny!" he called out as I went to leave, "What do you mean you 'can't die'?"

"I don't know how, but I have an actual power. No matter how many times I've been killed, I always wake up the next morning in my same bed and wearing my same clothes. I've been impaled, decapitated, burned, eaten, ripped apart, stabbed, shot, crushed, and pretty much any other way you could think of dying. It's torturous! And the worst part is, no one even remembers me dying. It's like it never happened, but I can still feel every way I was ever killed. I don't blame you if you don't believe me, but that's why I flipped. Every time I put on that costume, I'm not Kenny the poor, useless kid. I'm Mysterion, the hero who can help keep South Park safe."

"…Holy shit, dude," Stan said after I had finished my story. "That's…unbelievable. How long have you known?"

"Since third grade. I died almost every day. In one way or another, I was killed. The last thing I would hear would be you saying 'Oh my God! They killed Kenny!' and Kyle would say 'You bastards!'. But then I would wake up the next morning and go to school hoping it was just a bad dream. After all, none of you would notice that I had ever died. It wasn't until fourth grade that I realized that dying every day was just to big a coincidence to be just a dream."

"Kenny, I…" Stan paused, thinking. "I believe you."

"You do?"

"Yeah, you're too hurt for that to be fake. But, still, now Cartman's going to want you to be punished."

"Let him try."

"What are you going to do," Stan asked, genuinely worried.

"I'm going to find out why I have these powers. I'm going to follow every lead I get. I'm going to start with my parents and see what they know. Then I'll look for the answers. Stan," I resolved, "I'm leaving South Park."


	5. Mysterion's Mission

Flipping myself up onto the fire escape, I climbed the steps to my usual spot. The window on the landing above me was that of the police chief's office.

I had been caught by the police once before and arrested for vigilantism. But that was only because Cartman tricked me into removing my mask. Of course, I was killed by an inmate during a drug deal and woke up in my bed with no one remembering I had ever been caught.

As long as I stayed anonymous, the police department was more than happy to accept my help. After all, their officers weren't exactly a fearsome force to be reckoned with.

"Sgt. Yates," I greeted the Irishman after opening the window.

"Oh, Mysterion! What can I do for you? I heard you almost caught Professor Chaos last night."

"Well, yes, until a certain raccoon-themed 'hero' interrupted."

"I know, Mysterion," Yates agreed, "Pricks like the Coon don't deserve to call themselves heroes. He's just like that Sergeant Bixby from Denver. That bastard got the promotion over me! That ass-kissing, cock-sucking—"

"Uh, Sgt. Yates?" I tried to pull him out of his rant.

"What? Oh, yes, you had something to tell me?"

"I'm leaving South Park."

"What?" he dramatically spewed out the coffee he'd been drinking. "But, Mysterion! Our department would be nothing without your help! Our officers wouldn't have a clue what to do without you telling them. You can't just leave!"

"Sorry, sir, but I have to do something. There are questions I need to know the answers to and I'm leaving tonight."

"I'm sorry it has to be that way," he conceded. "Are you sure there's no way I can get you to change your mind? Mysterion?" he called after me, but I was already gone.

* * *

><p>It was a hot, sticky September night. I had taken off my dark indigo cloak and relied on my mask to conceal my identity. Wearing my costume during the summer was something I hated. Even in the Colorado mountains, it was too hot to wear all these clothes. But I couldn't afford to take them off and be unprepared. Butters was probably still running around the town. I knew he wouldn't cause any further harm; after all, he was still Butters and I had taken his gun off of him. If he did show up, though, I wanted to catch him and turn him in to face his punishment.<p>

Don't get me wrong, Butters parents were complete assholes and lunatics in their own respects. But the law says you're not allowed to shoot people and burn houses down, so Butters needed to be taken in.

Butters wasn't really my concern right now, however. I was headed back to my house where hopefully I could get some answers from my parents about where I'd gotten my powers. They were afraid of Mysterion, and I hoped to use that to my advantage. A kid in a costume isn't really that frightening; but when you're stoned, a guy dressed in dark clothes and a mask that breaks into your house is pretty scary.

My parents weren't as bad as they used to be. They had each gotten part time jobs and stopped abusing their kids. They even stopped doing drugs (except for when I was "in bed"). My brother, Kevin, had moved to New York where he had been offered a contracting job. Karen was still in foster care, though, because child services didn't trust our parents to take care of her.

I approached our trailer using the deep shadows of dusk to hide myself. First, I snuck into my room to grab stuff I thought I would need. Then I headed over to my parents' room.

I figured they would probably be smoking a joint by now and I wasn't disappointed. When I threw open the window and jumped into the room, I scared the shit out of them.

"Damn it, kid!" my dad yelled, "Didn't your parents ever teach to knock?"

"No they didn't," I couldn't help but smirk at the irony.

"Now he's laughin' at us, Stuart," my mom complained.

"Fucking smartass kid," he mumbled. "Listen kid, we did what you said. We got jobs; stopped abusing our kids; hell, we even stopped doing so many drugs. It's been real hell, so what more could you want from us?"

"I just need you to answer some questions," I replied calmly.

"Hell, Stuart, just answer the kid's questions."

"The two of you used to attend meetings of the Cult of Cthulhu, right?"

"Yeah," my dad answered, "But we told you, we only went for the free beer."

"While you were at these meetings, did the members do anything weird to you?"

"Yeah," my mom answered, "I was pregnant with my second son and they did some sort of weird ritual over my stomach. But I was already drunk and they offered us food, too. So I just let them keep going. All they did was sprinkle some stuff on my stomach and say some weird words."

"Has anything weird ever happened since then?"

"Well, every once in a while, Carol here will give birth to another child. We put him in our son, Kenny's room, but when we wake up, it's disappeared and Kenny's sleeping in his bed. We just figured it was the meth we used to make."

"Thanks," I replied. I was shocked; my powers must have come from that Cthulhu Cult. And when I was killed, I didn't just reappear, I was born again.

I jumped back out the window with my dad shouting after me, "And quit coming into my house!" But I didn't really care. I had found some answers and I had enough to start my search.

I ran out of the trailer park and headed towards the place where I knew the cult worshipped. But as I went around the gates, I was clotheslined by someone standing in the bushes. I had the wind knocked out of me, and as I tried to breathe, I saw a tall shadow looming over me…


	6. Arm the Troops!

"Stan!" a familiar voice cried out in shock.

"Oh shit! Kenny! Are you okay? I didn't mean to knock you down!" the shape above me remarked.

"Way to go, genius, you hurt him!"

"Kenny, are you alright?" a third voice asked.

As my eyes adjusted to the darkness, I saw it was Stan, Kyle, and Wendy standing in the bushes. Kyle and Stan reached down to help me up while Wendy smacked Stan on the back of the head.

"It's alright," I assured them, "I'm fine."

"Good!" Stan replied "I thought I might have actually hurt you."

"No, no, it's good. But why are you all here? And why did you clothesline me?"

"Well, I didn't think you'd stop unless I made you," Stan confessed, "But I guess that was a little too hard."

"Stan told us what you had said," Kyle explained. "We want to help you."

"Uh, that's great you guys but..." I tried to tell them.

"Listen Ken," Wendy interrupted. "We're not here to take bullshit. You're 16. Even if you do have a power, you can't do this alone. We're helping you and that's final."

"She's right, Kenny," Kyle agreed. "You're our friend. We're not leaving you."

"Yeah!" Stan added, eliciting stares from Wendy and Kyle. "Well you guys already said what I was going to say."

"Alright, alright," I gave in. "You can help me out, but not like that," I added.

"What do you mean?" Wendy asked.

"I'm going to be facing a cult of dark god worshippers. The last time I tried to get answers from them, they stabbed me to death. If you guys are coming with me, you're going to be armed to the teeth."

* * *

><p>The trailer was silent. My folks were probably stoned out of their minds or asleep. I led them through the double-wide trailer to my room. Inside, I opened my closet and pulled out the dresser.<p>

"Uh, Ken," Wendy said, "This really isn't the time for redecorating."

"Just wait," I told her.

Once I had drug the dresser out of the door-less closet, I pulled a rope buried in the side of the wall. A false wall made out of a piece of painted drywall swung back on inset hinges to reveal an arsenal of weapons I had gathered over the course of my hero work.

"Jesus, Kenny!" Stan exclaimed, "How'd you get all of this?"

"These are all weapons that I got from catching criminals."

"Wait a minute," Kyle paused while looking through the weapons, "Are these those ninja weapons we bought at that fair?"

"Yep, there's even the shuriken that got stuck in Butters' eye."

"You guys got a throwing star stuck in Butters' eye?" Wendy gasped.

"Might be why he went crazy," Stan said, "Probably caused some brain damage."

"Dude!" Kyle yelled out in excitement, "Where did you get this gun?"

He pulled a shiny object off of the wall. When it was in a position where I could see it, I saw that it was the 24-karat gold Desert Eagle pistol I had taken from a drug dealer during a raid.

"Off of a drug dealer, I snuck up behind him and hit him with an iron bar. This baby was in his holster, so I took it to make sure he didn't try to shoot me. Nice, isn't it?"

"Sweet!" Kyle agreed.

"Okay, so pick weapons you think you'll be able to use fast and accurately. Try to carry as many as you can without weighing yourself down."

I let them go at it. I already had my "utility belt", if you will. I had an old Luger pistol which I had found at one of Cartman's earlier Nazi rallies, a hunting knife I had bought at a yard sale, smoke pellets I bought online, handcuffs, all of the shurikens I had that didn't have dried Butters blood on them, and a few other odds and ends.

Kyle was pretty well rounded. He decided on the Desert Eagle as well as a machete I had gotten from my grandfather. On his back was a Tommy gun I had found in another drug deal. He even put on some brass knuckles I had gotten from someone trying to "catch" Mysterion.

Stan was more of a heavy fighter. He chose a weapon Kevin had sent over after his few years of service overseas. It was a combination gun made with a semi-automatic rifle and shotgun. He also wore a large sword I had bought at an auction with its hilt. On his back was an M190 LAW; a one-man, reloadable rocket launcher I had gotten from the Park County Police training compound. With all that and the satchel containing the two extra rockets, I wondered if Stan had maybe packed on too much. But he didn't seem to be hindered by all the extra weight. All those years of playing football were paying off.

Wendy had gone light. She had a snub-nosed Colt revolver as well as a butterfly knife. She put a can of Mace tear gas and a taser in her pockets. When Stan made fun of her for using so little, she proceeded to attack him and jab a pressure point, which made him fall over, helpless. After Kyle and I had finished laughing at him, Wendy told Stan not to mess with someone who had years of martial arts training and was a third-degree black belt.

With the matter of weaponry solved, we snuck back out, leaving messages for all of our parents. Not that I thought mine would care that much, but it was a nice thought.

I couldn't help feeling like the good guy in one of those badass action movies as our group snuck down the dark streets of South Park, Colorado. I reached up and removed my mask and cloak, tossing them in a dumpster as we passed. For once, I didn't need to be Mysterion to be a hero. As long as my friends were with me, I was even more invincible than what my power gave me.


	7. Disappointing Discovery

Our first stop was to check the place where the Cult of Cthulhu met. As far as I knew, they were still there, but I wasn't positive they hadn't moved. I had been spying on them a few weeks ago and I thought one of them saw me out the window. I could only hope they were still there, or we might waste precious time trying to locate their new base of operations.

Fortunately, the goth kids weren't a part of the cult anymore. After Cthulhu had been locked away by a hero with the powers of breakfast cereal, I guess the dark god didn't seem as cool to them. Which was good because the goth kids weren't actually all that bad. Well, other than that freaky little one that tried to stab me.

We snuck up to the house where the cult was supposed to be worshipping. But as we got closer, I could see my fears were justified. The house was abandoned and had been for days. The door was open and everything was gone. The electricity still worked, so they had been here within the last month. I searched around for any clues I might find while the others sat on the stairs.

"Damn it!" Stan said. "I was really hoping for some action."

"Hey, Ken," Wendy asked, "Can we help you with anything."

"Nope," I responded happily, "I already found something!"

"Really?" they all rushed into the room I was in to see what I had found.

Right on the kitchen floor laid a paper with handwriting on it. Picking it up, I saw that it was a note card with information on it about where the cult was headed.

**Colorado is too dangerous. We've been discovered. Cult members report to new location: 15589 Holiday Rd. Carson City, Nevada. All hail Cthulhu!**

"Nevada?" Kyle said surprised.

"If you guys want to stay, I'll understand," I tried one last time to talk them out of following me.

"No way, Kenny," Stan said, "We're not gonna bail on you now!"

"As reassuring as that is," Wendy pointed out, "How are we going to get to Nevada?"

"My uncle used to drive truck," Kyle said, "He has an old sleeper cab in his backyard. We could take that. I have my license and my uncle taught me how to drive a truck."

"Awesome!" Stan shouted in excitement, "Road trip!"


	8. Butters' Story

As we walked across town towards Kyle's uncle's house, I heard footsteps from behind us. Every time I looked around, though, there was no one there. Somebody was following us. Not wanting to alarm the others, and figuring that it would be better to see who it was before trigger-happy Stan started shooting at them, I stopped and told them to keep going without me.

"I have to tie my boot," I told them, purposely loud enough for whoever was following us to hear. "I'll catch up, go on ahead."

"You sure?" Kyle asked to which I nodded. "Alright then."

I crouched down, pretending to tie my laces while actually reaching for my knife. As I suspected, I could hear the faint sound of someone approaching me. I readied myself to strike, but the footsteps stopped.

Figuring they were aiming a gun at me, I rolled sideways and pulled out my own gun. Cocking back the lever, I aimed the Luger straight at the chest of Professor Chaos.

"Going to shoot me, Kenny?" Butters asked. Then he took off his mask, revealing the innocent-looking, boyish face beneath. He hadn't changed much since fourth grade; other than being taller and stronger from running and fighting, his blonde hair was still cropped short, and his bright blue eyes made him seem like he was still just a kid. But the innocent cuteness was twisted by the crazy grin on his face. "Go ahead; put it right between my eyes. Blow my brains out on the street. You know I deserve it."

"I'm not gonna shoot you, Butters."

"Figures," he sighed, "Always the hero."

"What are you doing here?"

"Well," he explained, "You got a small army there, so I wanted to see what you fellers were doing."

"Why do you care?" I asked.

"Because if you're going somewhere dangerous I want to help."

"What?" I was confused, "Why do you want to help?"

"Oh, a lot of reasons. One, I want to be in a real fight, not just having you chase me around South Park. That's getting boring. Two, if you get killed, there'll be no one to be my enemy because, let's face it, the police are pretty much useless." Then his evil grin faded and turned into a genuine smile. "And because you fellers are still my friends and I'm not evil enough to watch my friends get killed."

What? Butters still considered us his friends? Maybe he wasn't completely crazy. Maybe the old Butters was still there. Of course, now if I brought him in he couldn't plead insanity. Well, maybe he still could.

"That's great, Butters, but you don't have any weapons so—"

"Hey, just cause I don't use weapons on you doesn't mean I don't have any."

"But I took your gun," I said, wondering what weapons he could be talking about.

"Yeah, but not all weapons can be taken."

"What are you saying?"

"You're not the only one with powers, Kenny," he stated. "I found out that I have powers, too. In fact, I believe you were the one that gave them to me."

"What? How?"

"Remember the night before my parents were killed? We were fighting each other on top of a building. You kicked me and I hit that satellite, remember?" I nodded an affirmative. "Well I was shocked by an open wire, but I didn't tell you because it hadn't hurt that bad. After I had ran away and gotten home, my parents yelled at me and grounded me for staying out too late. I went to my room mad at them, and as I closed the door, I touched the metal knob."

He paused as if trying to gather his thoughts. But before he could continue, a gun cocked behind me.

Stan was aiming his gun at Butters' chest. Wendy and Kyle also had weapons raised.

"Hold on you guys," I told them. "He's not trying to hurt me. Go on, Butters."

"Geez you fellers are violent. Anyway, as I touched the metal, electricity shot out of my hand and I was thrown to the floor. When I got up, I saw something incredible. It was like a clone of me only it wasn't wearing a costume. But there was something wrong with it, something evil about it. It attacked me and tied me to a chair. While I was sitting there, I heard my parents scream and then two gunshots. I struggled to get out because I heard it coming up the stairs. When it came into the room, it locked the door. It had an oil can in its hand and covered my room with it. Then he took out a match. He lit it and I was pretty much freaking out by then. When I struggled against the rope, I saw sparks flying off of me. So I kept struggling as the clone lit the fire and started towards me with my dad's gun. The sparks had started burning the rope and with one last push I broke free. The clone shot at me, but missed, and then we were fighting on the ground. I guess I hit the trigger, because the gun went off and the clone stopped fighting. I didn't wait around because the house was in flames. My costume pieces had fallen off during the fight but I just grabbed the gun in case the clone was still alive and jumped out the window onto the garage roof."

"I must have been lying on that roof fifteen minutes, watching my house and parents burn." Butters was crying, there was no way he was making this up. It was killing him to say this, but he kept going. "I couldn't get up for a minute because the fall had knocked the wind out of me. But even once I recovered, I just sat there and watched, too scared to move. When the police came, they saw me on the roof with a gun and didn't even bother to ask questions. They started shooting at me so I scrambled back across the roof of the garage. I got down and jumped into the neighbor's dumpster. The police ran past it and didn't catch me. I was so tired from fighting and running that I just slept in the garbage that night. When I woke up the next day, the story was plastered everywhere. Everyone thought I was the killer. I didn't know who to go to. Who would believe me? After an hour or so, I finally had a plan. If I made another Professor Chaos costume, no one would know it was me. No one but you guys. But when I tried to talk to you, Kenny, you just attacked me and tried to take me to the police. I knew I wouldn't get off in court; I had no way to prove it wasn't me. So I kept up the game hoping someday I would be able to trap you just so I could explain things to you. But you're too good."

"But, if you're innocent," I asked him, "Why did you want me to shoot you?"

"It's been six years, Kenny. I'd lost hope that you would ever hear my story. I thought death would be better than running any more."

He looked down at his feet and twiddled his hands and feet. Just like before.

"Okay, Butters," I said, "I believe you."

"You do?" he asked warily.

"Yeah, dude," Kyle added, "We're sorry."

"Aww," Wendy went to comfort him. "Poor thing."

"Wait, guys," Stan said, "What if he's lying? Prove it Butters, prove you're innocent!"

"Okay, Stan, if you say so."

He raised his hand and unleashed a lighting bolt that struck a car. The vehicle crumpled from the force of the blow and burst into flames.

"Jesus!" Kyle yelped, jumping away from the car.

"Holy shit, dude!" Stan said, "You…you weren't lying."

"While I was hiding, I wondered what had happened with the sparks in my room. After some experimenting, I found I could generate and control electricity in my body. So in exchange for powers, my parents are dead, I'm wanted for their murder, and now the only ones who know my story are rushing to get into deadly fights. Well I'll be damned if I let you fellers die! You're the only ones that care anymore."

He slumped his shoulders and lowered his head. He started shaking and Wendy and I ran up to him. As soon as we caught him, he collapsed in tears, violent sobs racking his body. Even years of life as a criminal couldn't change the fact that Butters was still Butters.

"Come on, Butters," Wendy took over for me and led him over to the curb, "Let's sit down here."

I pulled Kyle and Stan over to talk.

"Well, I guess we should, uh…" I tried to think of something to say, but the story Butters had just told us was too fresh in my mind.

"Shit, dude," was all Kyle could say.

"Poor Butters," Stan said, "To hear your parents get killed then watch their house and bodies burn it's…"

After a long silence I asked, "Should we…should we let him come with us?"

"I don't know Kenny," Kyle said, "I mean, he has an awesome power, but he really should be getting help."

"Who else would give him help?" Stan asked, "Like he said, everyone thinks he went berserk. And even if we told them what had really happened, we couldn't prove it. We're the only ones that can help him."

"Alright," I agreed, "He needs to come with us. But first, I have something to ask him. As soon as he's better, though."


	9. Move 'Em Out

Butters cried on Wendy's shoulder for an hour. Her shoulder was completely soaked by the time he cried himself to sleep. Stan and I had taken turns carrying him to an old shed in the woods behind the trailer park.

Kyle and Stan went to get the truck from Kyle's uncle that night before Kyle's parents found out about their son being missing and called him. Wendy and I stayed with Butters in the shed. She was good at comforting him and I still had to ask him some questions.

When he woke up, he seemed confused at where he was. After the moment of realization hit him, his eyes started watering again. But he didn't sob any more. Instead, he seemed to be collecting his thoughts.

When he spoke it was soft and sad, "Thanks, fellers."

I didn't want to start questioning him right away, so instead, I snuck out in the early morning hours to get food from a corner store down the street.

I had brought all of my savings with me from birthdays, Christmas, summer jobs, and reward money for captured criminals. I rarely took rewards, but sometimes, if it was an extremely dangerous one, the reward was too great for me to pass up. I now had almost $100,000 dollars in small bills hidden inside a hidden pocket of my utility belt.

Some fruit and beef jerky was a strange breakfast, but we were all hungry, especially Kyle and Stan when they came back. Kyle's uncle lived in the mountains so it was a rough walk.

They had explained the situation to him; their friend needed help to get to Nevada and they needed the truck. It took a while, but they finally got his uncle to agree. They filled the gas and drove it to a secluded spot outside of town where we could pick it up when we were ready.

Butters was silent, but otherwise fine when we decided to go to the truck. We bought some more food and a first aid kit.

* * *

><p>The truck was hidden and out of sight in the woods behind South Park. We drove it to an abandoned junk yard, and then gathered metal sheets which we planned on bolting to the truck to help make it more secure. With tools and parts from the junk yard, we attached the metal onto the truck, covering the whole vehicle with quarter-inch thick steel. It wasn't exactly a tank, but smaller bullets wouldn't be a problem. We even rigged it so that with the pull of a rope inside the cab, plates of steel would drop down and cover the windows. We found an old plow and attached it to the front.<p>

When it was all done, I used some old paint in the decrepit garage to paint the name _Coon & Friends_ on the side.

"Are you really going to do that?" Stan chuckled.

"Oh, I must, I must," I told him. "I want to piss that fat ass off one more time before we go."

Kyle had no problem with driving the truck down Cartman's street and blaring the horn. We could see Cartman staring at us out the kitchen window, so I rolled down mine, flipped him off, and we drove away.

The almost antique GPS in the truck took a while to get working, but once we punched in the address on the card, it gave us the directions to our next destination: Carson City.

* * *

><p>After a day of driving, we pulled off into an RV park in the middle of nowhere. We weren't exactly in an RV, but the owners didn't seem to care what business they got.<p>

We built a small fire and cooked some Spam on a tin pan we'd bought from the RV park's store. No one talked and eventually Stan and Wendy went to bed. Kyle went off to use the restroom and Butters and I were left staring into the fire.

_He's had all day to calm down,_ I thought to myself, _He seems okay. I hope he is._

"Hey, Butters?" I asked quietly.

"Yeah, Kenny," he replied.

"When you were talking to me yesterday, you said I wasn't the only one with powers. How did you know? I only told Stan, and he told the others."

"What?" Butters looked confused, "You told all the guys in fourth grade you had that power when we were playing superheroes. Then you blew your brains out with a gun."

"Yeah, but everyone else forgot. How did you remember?"

"I don't know," he said, now getting interested, "But I watched your body disappear and everyone else seemed to forget you had been there. Stan asked where you were, then ran to get you. You came back with him, so I didn't bother to say anything."

This was a strange turn of events. I didn't know how Butters could remember me dying. My powers kept getting more and more confusing. I suggested that we go to sleep early so that we could get to Carson City by tomorrow.


	10. The Cult of Cthulhu

It took us the entire day, but when we arrived at Carson City, Nevada, it was a relief. Butters seemed better now that he wasn't alone; actually, he seemed just like his old self, although a bit more mature and less naive.

"The GPS says that the road is only a minute or so away," Kyle announced, "But the maps in this thing haven't been uploaded in a long time, so we'll have to find the house ourselves."

"Thanks Kyle," I replied. "Okay, Butters, even though you have a power I'd feel better if you had another form of protection."

"Mmhm," he agreed, "But I don't know how to use any weapons. I never even shot the gun you took from me. Well, not on purpose anyway."

"That's okay," I assured him, "I'll teach you how to use some basic weapons."

Once we had gotten the truck, I had had Kyle drive it back to my place and put all of my remaining weapons stores into the trailer. We stopped the truck outside the city's suburbs and I taught Butters to shoot a handgun and to fill and reload a clip. I taught him some different ways to hold and use a knife and Wendy taught him a few simple self-defense moves. By the time he had these down pat, it was dark. This was actually better, because most of the cult's meetings didn't start until the sun went down. This way we could apprehend the lot of them.

* * *

><p>We left the truck where it was and continued on foot after memorizing the directions from the GPS and taking the card with the address. When we got to the street, we didn't even have to look for the house. It was the one with people in black robes trying to sneak into it.<p>

"Okay, does everyone have their bulletproof vests on?" I asked. Everyone said yes.

I had taken them from the Park County Police Station a while back. They were all ones that had rips in them where an officer had been shot, and there were exactly six. I had figured on using the pieces to make an entirely bulletproof under suit, but hadn't gotten around to it. Besides, what were the odds that a bullet would hit in exactly the same place as the rip?

"Alright then," I continued, "Let's set up a perimeter around the house. Don't let any of the members see you. Try to watch their meeting if you can through a window or something and let everyone else know when they're done. We'll catch them off guard while they're trying to leave. Wendy, Stan, and Kyle: you guys cover the exits. Butters and I will fill in. Ready? Break!"

"Really, dude?" Stan asked.

"Well I thought it was appropriate."

"Come on you two, let's go!" Wendy interrupted.

* * *

><p>It was two hours later that Wendy loudly whispered to me that Stan had seen them packing up. She assured me that everyone else was ready and moved behind a car in front. I moved around to where I could get a side shot at the front door. I looked and saw Butters hurry over to the back door with Kyle. Stan stood alone at a side door that had a bunch of junk in front of it. It was doubtful that anyone would go that way, but if a shootout started, some of them might try to get out through there.<p>

The front door opened and the members came out. Before the first one was out of the doorway, I spoke up.

"Freeze!" I ordered. "Move anywhere I don't tell you and you'll have a bullet through your brain." Thankfully, he listened and threw his hands in the air. I could hear him whispering to the people inside. "Shut up! I'll tell you what to say, got it?" He nodded vigorously. "Alright, now speak up nice and loud so they don't misunderstand you. Tell them to turn on the lights. I want to get a good look at your pretty face."

"Turn on the lights," he told the others loudly. When they came on, I did a quick head count. There were six other members. One was looking out the window, probably trying to see me.

"Tell your buddy to step away from the window. Unless, of course, he wants to be shot."

He told the man to do this, and he stepped back.

"Now, without looking, how many people are in your cult?"

"Eight, including me," he replied.

"So where's the eighth one?"

"He was going to use the bathroom."

"And where is the bathroom?"

"It's on the other side of the house, towards the back. There should be a light on."

"Kyle! Is there a light on in the house back there?" I called out.

"Yeah!" he answered, "On the first floor. Want me to go in and get him? Wait, never mind, the light went off, he's coming out."

After I said okay, I saw another person walk into the room. He looked like he was asking why they were standing there.

"Go ahead and tell him we're here," I told him, "But say anything else and both of you'll be decapitated. Once he knows, I want you all to walk outside nice and slow with your hands on your heads."

After a few seconds, they all started walking out on the lawn. I called the others around to the front and we formed a circle around them. I recognized the leader and told him to step forward. The others were told to get down on their knees.

"Remember me?" I asked him. "Probably not. The last time you saw me, you stabbed me to death. But now who has the upper hand? Now, I want ANSWERS!"

"Anything! Anything you want to know! Please don't kill us, kid!"

"Quit groveling, it's pathetic. I want intelligent answers to my questions; no 'I don't knows', no 'I don't remembers', because that would mean you're a liar, and I hate liars."

He nodded in understanding.

"About 16 years ago, there were two members of your cult. Their names were Stuart and Carol McCormick. You performed some sort of ritual on the woman's unborn baby. Correct?"

"Yes."

"Good, now I want you to tell me exactly what you did and what exactly it's supposed to do. Don't skip anything."

"The ritual performed was the most revered of our sacraments to Cthulhu. It has only ever been performed once, on that child. The ritual is meant to place the dark powers of or lord, Cthulhu, into a child who will one day become our chosen one. But the child's parents were arrested along with the rest of us in a police raid and we never found out where they lived. Their names weren't even in a phonebook. So the child we gave those dark powers is in South Park, Colorado, and has never been trained to use his powers."

"These 'dark powers', what are they?" I was extremely anxious to hear everything.

"Well the main power is the ability to be resurrected any time the chosen one would die or be killed with almost no one realizing they had ever been dead. As long as the mother is alive and in good physical condition, the child is simply reborn to her and returns to his normal state overnight. This protects the child during the development of his powers. However, once the child reaches a certain age, or if the mother is killed, they gain the ability to rematerialize wherever they want after their previous dead body disappears. Only the parents of the child will realize that the chosen one is reborn, but once they stop having the child, their memories will fade. However, once the chosen one is able to resurrect wherever they want, anyone who witnesses their death and resurrection will remember that they have the powers. These memory wipes are to ensure that the chosen one is not discovered before he can summon Cthulhu."

"Are there any other powers?"

"Well there are some other powers: the abilities to tell a person's true nature and open portals to use to warp anywhere, as well as being able to travel between dimensions without any harm and bring others with them. They can also call forth any creature from R'lyeh, the home of Cthulhu and the other Great Old Ones. It was this power we had hoped to use to summon Cthulhu himself. These are the only powers which the Necronomicon reveals to us."

I was shocked by this information. All of that power was inside me? Some of it made sense; obviously the resurrections and even the power about people's true natures, but to be able to create portals and summon demons?

Suddenly, the leader threw his hand into his robe and pulled out a dagger which he threw at my neck. It lodged itself into my throat and blood gushed from the wound. In the seconds before death, I raised my Luger and fired two rounds into his skull. The other members tried to scramble, but they were either killed or wounded too badly to move by the others' gunfire. Wendy and Butters rushed over to me while Kyle and Stan struggled with a couple of cult members. I was choking on my own blood as they tried to save me, but soon I could see only black.


	11. Awakening

I was floating in a dark place with nothing around me. I wasn't scared; I had been here countless times before. But this time, there was something different. It had been years since I had last died. Before, I had simply seen blackness which slowly became my parents' room. But now, there was nothing. The darkness didn't change.

_Am I dead for good?_ I wondered. _I finally got the truth and I die permanently?_

No! This couldn't be it! I searched my memories for anything that might bring me back. Suddenly, the words of the cult leader played through my head: "They gain the ability to rematerialize wherever they want after their previous dead body disappears."

That had to be it! I tried to think of my friends. Their faces appeared in my mind, but then disappeared. This couldn't be the end!

But before I could try anything else, the darkness began to change. I watched in excitement and relief as the faces of my friends soon became their bodies. Next, the cult's house materialized behind them with the two cult members tied up. Then the image grew larger as if I was getting closer until, finally, I was there in front of them.

"Kenny!" they all shouted both surprised and happy.

"Awesome!" Stan exclaimed, "Your body just disappeared, and then you appeared out of a black cloud!"

"Fucking sweet, dude!" Kyle added.

"That was the coolest damn thing I ever saw!" Butters joined in.

Only Wendy didn't say anything happy.

"Jesus, guys, can't you see he's beat?" she scolded. It was true, I was always tired after coming back. "Are you okay, Ken?"

"Yeah, Wendy, I'm fine. Sorry you had to see that."

"Hey, Kenny, what do you want to do with these guys? They were trying to escape after you got stabbed," Butters questioned.

I walked over to them, Wendy holding my arm.

"Seriously, Wendy, I'm alright," I assured her. She reluctantly let go. "Well?" I addressed the two cult members tied to the railing of the front steps.

"We're sorry, Master!" the first one cried.

"Please, Sir, we didn't know you were the Chosen One!" the other one pleaded.

"Cut it out! I'm not your 'master' and I'm not your 'Chosen One'! What do you two know about what the Necronomicon says about my powers?"

"I don't know anything, sir, I just joined a month ago," the first one said.

"I don't know anything either, but I can show you where the Necronomicon is," the second answered.

"Alright, then, let's…" I trailed off as sirens wailed in the distance. "Shit! We have to go!"

This wasn't South Park anymore; these people didn't know anything about Mysterion or the Cult of Cthulhu. They would arrest us for murder if we were caught.

But I had to get that Necronomicon!

"Okay," I told everyone, "You guys hide in the woods back there. I'm going to find the Necronomicon with this guy."

"What about me?" the other one asked.

"You just stay there," I ordered as I ran inside.

The cult member in front of me led me down into the basement. On the other end was the Necronomicon, perched on a podium. I grabbed the book and pushed the guy back through the hall. Outside, I quickly tied him back up.

"What's this?" he yelped.

"I don't trust you. You've spent too much time with the cult. You'll just try to trick me into setting Cthulhu free. This guy on the other hand, is too new to know how to get Cthulhu free even if he could trick me. And seeing as your entire cult can speak the language of this book, it doesn't really matter who I use as a translator."

I untied the other one and shoved him towards the woods where Stan, Kyle, and Butters took over.

"What are you going to do with me?" the cultist asked.

"Well I figure I'll leave you here to try and explain to the police that your mystic cult was attacked by their own chosen one with supernatural powers and a militant group of teenagers."

As I ran to the woods where the others were hiding, I heard the tied up cult member scream a loud "Fuck you!"

Not long after, the police showed up and rushed out onto the lawn. After diving for cover, they realized that the cultist was tied up to the front steps.

"What happened?" an officer with a megaphone asked him.

"Someone came to our party and shot everyone, then tied me up!" he quickly lied. "They ran into the woods there! I think there's about five of them!"

One of the police SUVs revved up and headed through the yard and into the sparse woods. It was too open and I knew we couldn't hide there.

"What do we do, Kenny?" Stan asked.

"Give me a second, uh…"

"Maybe you could make a portal to get us out of here!" the younger cultist suggested.

"How?" we all asked him.

"Well, in the Necronomicon, Cthulhu can make portals when he is free by reciting his oath…"

"That is not dead which can eternal lie. And with strange aeons even death may die," I finished the oath for him.

Immediately, a dark portal opened in the air in front of us. The SUV stopped and two officers came out, running towards them.

"Let's go!" I shouted and pushed everyone in.

The portal closed behind me as the officers fired at us. As we fell through a tunnel of light and dark swirling around us, I wondered where the portal would take us.


	12. Friendenemies

As we tumbled through the surreal tunnel, I heard some thuds below me. Not long after, I fell on my ass as the portal closed behind me. But not before depositing a very large object on top of me. Whatever it was covered my face so I couldn't see, but I heard Kyle's shocked and disgusted voice.

"Cartman! What the hell are you doing here?"

I pushed him off of me and we both stood up.

"Did you assholes really think I would let you do exciting shit without me? That and you owe me for using my copyrighted name on your truck!"

"What do you think this is?" I yelled at him furiously. "You think this is some fucking game you're being left out of? Well it's not! This is serious shit, fat ass! We can't carry your immature pussy ass around! And you know what else?—"

"Uh, Kenny?" Butters interrupted, "Could you maybe quiet down? I don't think those guys like you yelling."

He was pointing towards two enormous monsters that looked like giant crabs, but with way more legs than a normal crab and some tentacles spurting out of their backs. The creatures let out a simultaneous roar from their hideous maws filled with giant fangs.

"Jesus!" Stan yelped as one shot a type of goop at him. He dodged it, but it dissolved the rock it hit instead.

"Holy shit!" Cartman screamed, "Where the hell did you take us, Kenny?"

Ignoring Eric, I took the sub-machinegun off of my back that I had taken from the truck before going to the cult's house. Butters, Stan, Kyle and Wendy followed suit. I handed my Luger to Eric and Kyle gave his Tommy gun to the cult member while he took the Desert Eagle.

"Alright everyone," I ordered, "Fire at their faces, their shells will protect the rest of their bodies. Ready? Fire!"

We unleashed all of our guns on the crab things at once. They screeched and began to back away, but they obviously weren't seriously injured. Once they realized that the pain wouldn't get any worse, they began to get closer again.

"Damn it!" Stan yelped as one of them grabbed him with its tentacle. But with a hit from his shotgun, it released him.

"It's not working," I shouted, "Conserve your ammo! Aim for their eyes and only shoot when you think you can hit!"

Not too long afterwards, Butters fired his twice. After each shot, each of the smaller crab's eyes exploded. It shrieked and ran off. Then he aimed at the other crab.

But before he could shoot, it raised its claw in front of its face, preventing us from shooting it.

"Shit!" Kyle yelled, "It's learning!"

"Fall back!" I yelled.

We ran away from the creature while it launched its tentacles at us. We found cover behind some large rocks so that we could shoot at it.

As I went to jump behind the rocks with the others, a tentacle grabbed me by the ankle and I dropped my gun.

The creature raised me up to its ugly face and shrieked. I quickly grabbed my hunting knife, but another tentacle swiped it out of my hand.

"Kenny!" Kyle yelled and took aim at the monster's unguarded eyes. But again, the monster outsmarted us and swung me in front of its face. They couldn't shoot with me in the way.

Or could they?

"Stan! Get your rocket launcher ready!" I yelled quickly. "Kyle! Shoot me!"

"What? No way!"

"Just do it! When I disappear, it'll be off guard! Then shoot the rocket at its face!"

"I can't!" he pleaded.

"Alright then, Cartman, shoot me!"

"Jesus, Kenny!"

"Just do it, lard ass!"

"Hey! Don't call me fat!"

"What's the matter, fat ass? Can't shoot me past your rolls?"

"Fuck you, Kenny!" he screamed and fired the Luger right between my eyes.

* * *

><p>Thanks to Cartman's perfect shot, I was able to resurrect almost immediately. I appeared behind the group and shouted, "Now, Stan!"<p>

The LAW made a whooshing sound along with a quick bang as it fired the rocket. It traveled straight and flew right into the mouth of the creature.

With a huge "bang", the creature's head blew up in a fireball of guts and shell bits.

"Good job, tubby," I patted Eric on the back.

"Christ!" he jumped and swung at me, but I dodged easily. "How the hell are you alive?"

"Let's just say you couldn't kill me if you tried. Now explain to us how you got here."

So, while I gathered my weapons, Cartman told us how he had taken his mom's car and followed us all the way to Carson City. He had hid in the woods while we interrogated the cult. Then when we ran into the woods, he followed us into the portal.

After having him agree to help us with no complaints (which I achieved by shoving him against a rock wall and holding my recovered hunting knife to his throat when he refused), I filled him in on what the cult had told us.

After settling things with Eric, I turned to the cult member.

"And what's your name?"

"Jack Bowing," he answered. "I just came to the cult to study the Necronomicon. I major in mythology in college. I really don't worship Cthulhu."

"Alright, I guess we can trust you. You did help with those crab things. And since you can read the Necronomicon, you'll have to be our interpreter. Now look through and see if you can find out how to control those portals."

After an hour of deciphering and searching, we found that I could control the portals much the same as my resurrections. By picturing the dimension I wanted to be in before entering, I could teleport there. If I didn't pick a dimension, one was chosen randomly.

"Fantastic," I replied sarcastically, "Well let's go. 'That is not dead which can eternal lie. And with strange aeons even death may die'." Then, picturing South Park, I opened a portal which we all entered.

* * *

><p>As we traveled through the tunnel of light and dark, I was suddenly grabbed by a giant hand. The others yelled out for me, but I was dragged out of the portal. And on the other side, I was face to face with none other than Cthulhu.<p> 


	13. Revelations and Revenge

Cthulhu pulled me out of the portal into what I recognized as R'lyeh. Without a word, he brought me to a giant temple. I tried to get him to talk, but he wouldn't say anything.

The temple was huge. But that made sense seeing as it had to house a creature ten stories tall. The walls were hung with enormous tapestries depicting scenes of carnage and horror. Each huge pillar holding the gargantuan temple up was carved to look like giant skulls; or maybe they weren't carved.

I was ungracefully deposited onto a giant throne the size of a football field. Cthulhu stood in front of the chair and stared down at me. He leaned in close and I could smell his awful breath, kind of like rotten fish.

Then, he took a claw and stabbed me through the chest. Though it was only the tip, it was massive enough to rip through my body. I blacked out as my body died.

I was back in the dark void again. I tried to imagine my friends so that I could get out of R'lyeh, but it wouldn't work. Something was holding me back. Something stuck in my chest. The darkness slowly became an image again, but it wasn't one I wanted.

Cthulhu dragged me out of the darkness with his clawed hand. His claw was still lodged in my chest, but I wasn't bleeding. He set me down on the throne again and pulled his claw out of my body.

My head nearly exploded with the pain, but I didn't die. Instead, I just had a gaping hole in my body. I watched in amazement as it began to slowly, very slowly, started to heal.

"I see you are indeed my child," Cthulhu finally said in a deep voice. Surprisingly, it wasn't a horrible, scary voice; it was more like Darth Vader than a monster.

"I'm not your child you oversized calamari!"

"You may deny it all you wish, but you are my son," he replied.

Then he said something in the Old Ones' language and the entire place shrunk a more comfortable size. The temple was now only a story tall and Cthulhu stood only eight feet.

Now that he was on eye level, he said, "My followers had created you for the purpose of bringing me into their world. They expected me to bring chaos and darkness to their realm. The truth is, I do not need a 'chosen one'. I can enter any realm I choose. But I have no interest in your world. It is nothing to me. There are much greater realms in which I can create devastation and destruction."

"However," he continued, "When you had my power imbued in you, I became very interested in your existence. I have watched you since birth. I must say I would have liked a more evil offspring, but I will not try to make you so. Instead, I have a request of you…"

* * *

><p>I snuck into Cartman's room. It was the middle of the night and I knew he wouldn't have bothered to look for me with the others. Creeping up to him, I used a spell that Cthulhu had taught me. Shadowy tentacles appeared from my back and grabbed Eric by the limbs and neck and covered his mouth.<p>

"MMM! MM-MM!" his muffled voice could barely be heard.

"Sorry, Eric," I said to his nervous expression, "Well, not really."

I pulled a larger version of his Coon suit out of a bag. I held it up so he could see it.

"What do you think? It seems you've made quite the impression on Cthulhu," I teased him, "In fact, he's requested an encore!"

The tentacles ripped off his pajamas and he was suspended there for a second in his whitey-tighties as they forced him into the Coon outfit.

"Alright, Coony," I said, laughing almost evilly, "Let's go see your new master!"

"MMMM MMM!"

* * *

><p>The portal opened and I stepped back into the temple in R'lyeh with Cartman in his Coon suit. I brought him over to the throne where Cthulhu was sitting at full size.<p>

"Here you go!" I announced in a mock sing-song voice. "One little raccoon for your pleasure, oh Great Cthulhu."

I released Cartman onto his outstretched hand.

"What the fuck, Kenny? What the hell are you doing?" Eric yelled out, scared shitless.

"Cthulhu wanted his little buddy back!" I told him with a big stupid grin, "So I agreed to deliver you! You know it really warms my heart to see a dark god reunited with his favorite pet!"

I almost collapsed laughing as Cartman struggled to get away while Cthulhu petted his head. He was screaming his head off and Cthulhu didn't even notice.

But the others were probably worried about me, so I uttered the saying one last time; and with the image of South Park in my mind, stepped into the portal leaving Cthulhu with his new pet Coon.

* * *

><p><strong>THE END.<strong>


End file.
